(In)Sanity
by Extika
Summary: When Ib and Garry fail to escape the Fabricated World and fall into a deep sleep, Mary chooses to keep watch over them until they awaken. Meanwhile, the DWMA hears that people are disappearing in an art gallery and discovers that a witch lives inside a painted world. Slightly AU.
1. Hide and Seek

**Disclaimer: Ib belongs to Kouri.**

* * *

**Promises, Broken and New**

_It wasn't supposed to turn out this way…_

"Um…Ib? Sorry, but…could you go ahead?"

Garry had known that that little blonde would run off like that. So why hadn't he chased after her to retrieve it?

"I'm…uh…I'm sorry…I don't really know what to say."

He could hardly look the little girl before him in the eye, too worried that he might upset her.

"…I don't want to lie to you…"

_He didn't really want her to leave him there in Mary's sketchbook._

"But I…don't want to tell the truth either…"

_But he couldn't just leave her stranded in the painted world._

Forcing a pained smile, he tried to reassure Ib. She stared back at him with evident worry etched into her face. The girl's normally bright crimson eyes had begun to form tears, her eyebrows had furrowed under her dark brown hair. Garry didn't like that expression, and it made him sad to see her like this. But mingled with concern was doubt.

Garry cursed mentally. He knew she was an intelligent and watchful girl, that Ib, but why now of all times? He needed to reassure her again, to allow her to escape, even if he could no longer.

"…If you need help…I'll come running…"

"Will you promise?"

Garry quickly faced Ib with confusion written all over his face. Ib held out her pinky, gazing expectantly at Garry.

"Huh?"

"Promise me…you'll come?"

_She knew_, Garry realized. They both knew he was dying, even if neither cared to admit it. She knew that. Managing a weak smile, Garry shakily raised his larger hand to hers, his own pinky held out. He intertwined it with hers, and he could tell she'd noticed how much his hand was shaking.

"Promise…Now go…I'll catch up with you soon…Ib."

With a short nod, Ib ran off along the Sketchbook's black path and up the stairway in the distance, her hair flowing behind her. Garry smiled ruefully. Ib would escape. She was a smart kid – she could do it. But his thoughts soon turned to Mary.

Where had she gone?

Would she attack Ib?

…

No, she wouldn't, Garry decided. Even if the painted girl had it out for him, he had seen how attached to Ib Mary was. She wouldn't hurt Ib, the girl whom she wanted as a sister, a friend. It was strange, he now thought, that he felt no malice towards the girl. All she had wanted was to be real and have friends. But he, Garry, had gotten in her way. Or so he thought. He just couldn't bring himself to hate someone so pitiful.

But damn…he didn't want his last sight to be the nightmarish abyss of a ground. So with the last of his strength, Garry pushed himself up but quickly stumbled back into the white chalk railing of the path. Breathing heavily, his eyesight began to dim, yet his clouded mind continued to rush.

_This is it._

_Has Ib escaped yet?_

_I wonder what will await me…_

He could feel it coming, that engulfing wave of sleepiness. It would overtake him, though he wouldn't mind. He would finally be able to rest after that terrible ordeal.

Sleep…yes, that sounded good right about…now.

And with that this last breath he took, he realized something.

"Sorry…Ib…It would seem I can't…keep our…promise…"

* * *

She had failed him.

"Loves me."

A feeling of utter hopelessness and defeat consumed her. All as Ib watched the painted girl daintily pluck petal after blue petal from Garry's rose.

"Loves me not."

With each _snap!_ of the flower, she felt something inside of her die. It was a horrible sight, yet she couldn't bear to look away. Blue petal floated lifelessly to the floor, scattering around Mary's feet.

Then, it was over.

"LOVES me! Ahah! Yay…! Now I can…!"

Blue covered the black room with crayon walls and serrated vines of hand drawn roses. Blue. His blue. Garry.

Ib understand that the roses were connected to their lives. She'd known from the very beginning, even if she didn't understand the reasons. Moreover, acknowledging the fact may have well destroyed whatever sanity she would have left.

Torn blue petals.

What state would Garry be in? Ib didn't want to know.

She watched with silent streams of tears as Mary gleefully ran the room. Hopeless. Defeated. It was strange, really, how Ib had so easily come to trust Garry in the haunted gallery. They were complete strangers, but they'd become like brother in sister in such a short time. He'd protected her from danger, comforting her after her nightmare.

Now Garry was gone.

What point would there be in returning to her world?

Ib wanted to be with Garry. No, she _had _to. She thought of him, waiting alone and lonely back in that corridor. Her heart sank. Spinning on her heels, Ib ran and ran back to the spot where'd she'd left Garry. Her red eyes widened with hope when she saw his figure propped up against the wall.

But that hope quickly came crashing down heavily onto her heart.

Garry made no movement whatsoever. He just sat there motionless, one leg bent and his arms at his sides. His skin was so deathly pale; his eyes were shut but not shut tightly. It was almost as though Garry were sleeping. No…more like…a doll.

Ib fell to her knees.

"G-Garry?"

There was no answer.

She stayed there, frozen with horror at the sight, unable to even think. Tears came freely now as she crawled over so slowly to her Garry. She put her head on his chest, hoping that, just maybe, she could hear a faint heartbeat. To no such luck.

It was hopeless.

Garry wasn't coming back.

Mary had seen to that.

There was no reason for her to continue, she believed. Garry had become her light, but shadows always followed light and consumed it completely. And so too had Garry. Ib didn't even see reason to follow Mary. If the girl had escaped, she'd escaped.

Hands trembling, Ib clasped her red rose oh so gently. She had five petals remaining. Garry had made sure the water went to her flower and not his own. She bit her lip and held out two fingers.

"I love him…"

Soft crimson floated gently to the ground; Ib clenched her eyes shut as pain wracked through her.

"I love him not…"

The pain…it pierced through her chest like an arrow. But she knew she couldn't stop now, not when she'd already begun.

"I love him…"

Her vision blurred, and Ib nearly collapsed. She was growing sleepy. _Maybe I'll meet Garry in our dreams,_ she thought wistfully.

"I love him not…"

Ib fell to the ground this time, but her grip on the rose remained. She felt numb, but she had only one petal left before she met up with Garry.

"I…I…"

Ib apologized silently to her parents, who would never see her again. She apologized to Garry, that she gave up the chance he had given her. Her final thoughts swam around a sign she had seen earlier, one that she'd asked Garry to read to her. Perhaps this was what it meant.

Her hand fell limp before she could finish; her eyes slowly dimmed and shut out the light they'd held before.

_When the rose rots, so too will you rot away._

* * *

Ib was dead.

Garry was dead.

Marry watched from behind the corner of the corner of the corridor with quaking fury and horror. No! This was _not_ how it was supposed to happen. Ib wasn't supposed to die! She and Mary were supposed to make it out of the Gallery together and be best friends and do everything together! She didn't want this!

No! No no no no nonononononononononoNO!

This was all that Garry's fault! Because of him, Ib had died! If he had only stayed put, lost his mind in the doll room, none of this would've happened!

_But that's not entirely true_, a small part of her mind whispered. _You are to blame as well_.

"No! This isn't my fault! It's not!"

_You killed them, Mary._

"I didn't!"

_Don't deny it._

She fell to her knees sobbing, gripping the edge of her dress. Her hair splayed across her back and even to the ground, and tears stained her emerald dress, but Mary was too much in despair to notice.

"It's not…my fault!"

The voice didn't answer this time, Mary vaguely realized. Something quietly dropped to the ground beside her then. Yellow. Her rose. For a long moment, she just stared at it. Then, her tear-stained blue eyes blazed with ferocity.

Mary rose quickly and slammed her shoe down onto the yellow over and over.

"This is all _your_ fault!"

The yellow crumpled, but said nothing.

"If only you'd been real!"

There was little yellow left now, just the silhouette of a bloom and a bent stem. Mary took a step away but stumbled, collapsing to the ground, disoriented.

"If only _I _had been real…"

Mary turned to the face of Ib and Garry once more. They look so peaceful together, resting there as though they were merely asleep. Mary, however, could never belong to that peace. She noticed how tightly clenched the red-eyed girl's grip was to Garry's tattered coat, now resting still in the silence. The man himself smiled softly in his long sleep, almost as he had when reassuring them in life.

_Garry_…

What exactly was it about him that caused Mary to hate the man so much? Mary didn't know. All the man had done was protect her and Ib. He had even tried to befriend her. Yet she had torn apart his rose in jealousy of the relationship between him and Ib.

Mary realized now that her accusations meant nothing. And surprisingly, she didn't mind that she was wrong. There were no more emotions to hold, no happiness, no fury, no madness, just a hollow feeling.

And with that awareness, Mary threw herself at the two sleeping friends, pleading silently for them to forgive her. Seeing their wilting stems lying beside them, Mary snatched them up and a petal from each. Before she knew it, she tentatively pressed the red to the tip of the stem as though it would somehow reattach. But as she moved her hand away, the plush red flew to the ground lifelessly. She reached for it one more, her hand even more shaky than before.

Suddenly, a bright flash of light blinded the area, and Mary covered her eyes with an arm. As it died down, she slowly removed her arm and stared at the dead flower she held. Her eyes widened into great saucers.

A single crimson petal hung limply but alive from the stem of Ib's rose.

Steady intakes of breath drew Mary's attention to the figure of Ib then, and Mary noticed with growing confusion and joy that Ib's chest moved slowly up and down. Ib was breathing. Mary looked back and forth between the rose and Ib rapidly.

The rose had healed itself, and Ib had come back to life. How was that possible?! Everything Mary knew was truth – that paintings couldn't exist outside of the Gallery; that the rose represented one's life; that once a rose died, the person connected to the rose also die – all went up in flames. Nothing made sense anymore. But then, when had it?

In a flash, Mary guided a blue petal to Garry's rose stem. For a moment, nothing happened, and Mary wondered if Ib's rose healing had been a coincidence. But then, the petal slowly melded to the rose tip, gradually glowing just slightly with life.

Mary had no idea how this was possible, but she also wasn't one to question an obvious blessing.

But as she reached for the remaining petals, an abrupt gust of wind rushed by, taking up the red and blue and whisking them away. Dropping the stems, Mary reached after the escaping petals.

"Wait, no; come back!"

But they soon disappeared into the distance shrouded by inky blackness. She began to run for them, but then glanced back at Ib and Garry. She couldn't just leave them there exposed. Whatever had caused the wind may be after them as well. And Mary surely was not going to let her friends. But, oh, she would find those petals, maybe not right away, maybe not even for a few years, but Mary would revive them.

"I'll watch over you, forever and ever."

* * *

**A/N: **So I've gotten really into with the game Ib, its fanfiction, and fanart, so I decided to write my own. I'd heard about the game a while ago, but I never really got into it until I watched some LP's. Hopefully I wrote the characters correctly. Soul Eater characters will appear in the next chapter.

Please review to tell me how this is and thanks for reading.


	2. Corelli La Follia

**Disclaimer: Ib and Soul Eater belong to their respective owners.**

* * *

**Chapter 2: Investigations Begin**

"Have you heard of the artist Weiss Guertena?" Maka asked the others around her. She was currently reading through a newspaper, specifically a headline reading "Disappearances in Art Gallery."

Maka was a meister, a wielder of their death weapon partner Soul Eater. Both attended the DWMA, the Death Weapon Meister Academy, located in Death City. At the moment, their lesson in the Crescent Moon class had just finished, and a break had begun.

"No, why? Should we have?" Soul asked, though he evidently wasn't very interested. He could perform on the piano well, but art just wasn't his thing.

"Well, in the news, they say there've been disappearances in one of his galleries," Maka continued.

"I presume you're talking about an art gallery?" clarified Death the Kid, another Meister who just so happened to be Death's son. He stood with his hands held behind his back looking slightly more interested than Soul.

Maka nodded in confirmation. "There've also been rumors that the gallery itself is haunted by a witch and ghosts of the people who've disappeared."

"G-ghosts?" Liz, one of Kid's Death Weapons, stammered nervously. "Kid, _please_ tell me we're not going to go there." Her meister didn't reply.

"That's not cool at all," Soul remarked as he leaned back on his chair. "'sides, how d'you know it's not all fake?"

"Even if it's not a witch behind the disappearances, you have to wonder what the cause is," said Tsubaki, the soft-spoken Death Weapon of Black*Star, her near-opposite.

"Whatever's the reason, I'm sure that I, Black*Star, could deal with some puny ghosts!" her partner boasted, climbing onto the desks.

"Black*Star, please get down…"

"Ah…excuse me?" All heads turned as another student came up to the group, and Black*Star almost immediately flipped off the desk and landed before her. Startled, the girl continued, "I was—"

"Hoping for an autograph from the great Black*Star?" the blue-haired boy asked. He soon found a book wielded by an irritated Maka impaled into his head.

"Uh, no." The girl turned to Kid. "Lord Death wanted to see Death the Kid and Liz and Patty Thompson."

"What could Father want _this _time?" Kid wondered. "I'll catch up with you guys later." Standing, Kid left the room with Liz and Patty trailing behind him.

"What was that all about?" Soul asked, looking at the others. They just shrugged.

* * *

As Kid strolled under the _torii _designed to resemble guillotines and entered the Death Room, he was met with the vast expanse of tan desert and cloudy skies. Lord Death awaited him at the end of a slightly raised platform amidst numerous black crosses. He stood in front of a rounded obsidian mirror.

"Hey there, Kiddo~!" Death called, waving one of his large cartoonish hands and swaying on his shadowy perch.

As Patty waved back and Liz raised a hand, Kid merely stated, "Hello, Father."

"So? How're your classes? Anything new~?" Death continued.

"Father, please," Kid interrupted. "Why is it that you called me here?"

"Straight-to-the-point as always, I see," remarked Death, wagging a finger jokingly at his son. Serious, he went on. "I'm sure you've heard about the disappearances at a certain art gallery, have you not?"

Recalling the conversations earlier, Kid nodded. "I'm guessing that will be my mission then?" he clarified.

"Uh-huh," Death confirmed. "I have a feeling these disappearances are the work of a witch and not something mundane. However, we've found no information about what we're up against. I already sent Stein and Marie to investigate, but they came back empty-handed. And it seems only youngsters have been going missing. I'm sending you because I believe that you'll be able to find and handle whatever's the trouble."

After a moment of thought, Kid asked, "Are there any other similarities among the victims besides their age? And why hasn't this been investigated sooner?"

"Not that I could tell," Death answered, "though it might be a good idea to learn more about Guertena and his exhibits, and maybe talk to friends and families of the disappeared before you go. As for investigating, no one thought it had anything to do with witches or not until rumors that the gallery was haunted arose."

"Such as…"

"Such as portraits' eyes following visitors, statues moving when their backs are turned, and shadows streaking through the halls."

"And all of this was seen by witnesses?"

"Yes."

Kid thought about this. While it was true that evidence could have been faked, there was no reason for an art gallery to go as far as to frighten off visitors. And it couldn't be a publicity stunt – none of the disappeared had been found. There were many other possibilities as well, but he decided it wouldn't hurt to look.

"Hold up," Liz suddenly cut in nervously. It was no secret that the abnormal and occult terrified her. "You're telling me we're going to a haunted museum?"

"An art gallery, actually," Kid corrected, "but yes."

"Well, what're we waiting for?" asked Patty cheerfully. "Let's go! Let's go!"

"I suppose we should." Bowing respectfully to his father, Kid told his father, "Thank you. I'll finish this mission as soon as I can." Then, saying goodbye, Kid, Liz, and Patty started to leave the room. And as they were leaving, he heard Lord Death call, "Good luck, Kiddo!"

* * *

The trio's first stop for finding information about Guertena was the art gallery itself. After all, what better place was there to learn about an artist than their gallery?

At the moment, the Guertena exhibit was located at an art museum in Europe, so they were lucky that the place was still open by the time they arrived. As they'd anticipated, there were fewer visitors than there'd normally be (or so they assumed), probably as a result of the rumors. Even so, the museum still held a few dozen patrons not scared off or even curious about the rumors themselves.

Passing through the wide double doors, Kid, Liz, and Patty headed into the white-walled entrance all and to the front desk. A receptionist stood there, and he supplied the trio with a pamphlet of information. Behind the man hung a poster of an indigo abyss and a giant, wide-eyed fish.

"It's quite unusual for young ones such as yourselves to attend an art exhibition," the receptionist remarked. "Must have been a month since I last saw someone around your ages. Not to say there haven't been any kids around recently. You just can't forget those red eyes…"

"Red eyes?" Liz repeated. It wasn't completely impossible for someone to have red eyes, though they were somewhat of a rarity. So if someone had such eyes…

"How long ago was that?" Kid asked almost impatiently.

"Huh? Oh, maybe three weeks?" replied the receptionist. _Three weeks? That's about when the disappearances began, _thought Kid. _That girl with red eyes may have something to do with it._ Maybe he if could find this girl's name, they'd have an actual lead to go on.

"Hey, Kid?" Liz's voice cut into his thoughts. He glanced at Liz, who gestured to the ever-growing queue of guests. "We're kinda holding up the line."

"You know, places like these usually have those thingies people write their names in, too, right?" Patty suddenly added. "Maybe we could look there!"

"We do have a Guestbook, if that's what you're looking for," the receptionist told them. "Though, I'm not sure where it is."

Seeing that the receptionist wouldn't be of any more help, Kid said, "Alright, then. Let's go, Liz, Patty," and led the sisters away from the desk.

"Well, that was a complete waste of time," Liz complained.

"Maybe, maybe not," Kid answered. Then, waving the brochure, he said, "In any case, let's take a look around the exhibit."

Opening the pamphlet, they found a map of the gallery, which had a considerably simple layout. Located on the first floor were a few halls of more unconventional art, while on the upper floor was mostly paintings, though sculptures mingled throughout. The other floors contained works of other artists. To Kid, it was easy to see how the three could split up so that they covered more area.

"Can you two manage investigating this floor?" he asked the Thompson sisters.

Glancing around, Liz took note that there were still several people wandering around the gallery. Scaredy cat she was, if she was with her sister and there were other living people there, she could handle it. "Yeah, I think so," she replied. "Let's go, Patty."

"Alright!" her younger sister agreed.

The trio split up almost immediately after that, with Liz and Patty walking further into the first floor of the museum, and Kid traversing up the white stairs that led to the second. A row of windows frosted with intricate designs met him, and paintings lined the curved walls of corridors branching off into different directions. At first glance, nothing seemed off about the art gallery.

As Kid strolled further into the gallery, he couldn't help but glance almost warily at the canvases. The paintings in this area, he noticed, all seemed to have eyes staring out at the gallery-goers. Others had no eyes yet were still foreboding. _Lady Taking the Newspaper_, _The Two Roses_. There was another painting that featured only a single eye, underlined with dark shadows, titled _Worry_. And then he saw three mannequins with _no _eyes (or heads, for that matter) draped in identical dresses of different colors. Maybe it was just his imagination, but it felt as though someone was watching him.

Shaking that thought from his mind, Kid continued down the corridor to the next room. This one contained more nontraditional artwork and abstract paintings. He passed by the _Misshapen Diamond_ first, merely glancing at the rather generic still-life _Bitter Fruit_.

Then, a few paintings later came the uneasy sensation of being watched. Kid immediately looked over his shoulder at a gold-framed portrait hosting a striking young woman with a light smile, crimson eyes, and a dress as vibrant as her eyes. Long brown hair flowed down her back as she posed stilly in time.

"The _Lady in Red_, huh?" Kid read the title plate. "Wonder if she has anything to do with this. I wouldn't be surprised…"

He moved on before other visitors began to stare and passed by sculpture of a _Taste-Cleansing Tree_ and what looked to be a melting blue woman called _Fusion_. As he came to the front of sculpture and noticed, however, everything went downhill.

The head tilted to the left; an arm bent out to the right, and the sculpture seemed to slouch in on itself.

_The head tilted to the left…_

_an arm bent out to the right…_

In no way was the statue at all symmetrical.

"NOOOOO! IT'S NOT SYMMETRICAL!"

* * *

After splitting up, Liz and Patty were wandering throughout the first level of the gallery. To their left hung a polished sign worn with use that read "Welcome to the World of Guertena." There were only two murals in this area, and a couple of corridors. The blank white walls were somewhat intimidating, and the classical music playing softly added a regal air.

"Hey, sis! Let's go look at that!" Patty suddenly exclaimed, grabbing Liz's arm and pulling her to the center of the room where an enormous mural was.

"'_Abyss of the Deep_,'" Liz read the title plate outside of the rope barrier. "No kidding – it looks like it goes on forever."

The artwork of the anglerfish reaching the surface of an endlessly deep pool was surreal, to say the least, and it almost seemed magnetic, luring in patrons with its beauty. Perhaps it already had.

But that was absurd.

"Come look at this one, sis!" Liz heard he sister call from a painting that stood as tall as the wall itself not far off. This one was less realistic than the _Abyss of the Deep_, using abstruse streaks of paint the scene of an overbearing mother dictating her son's piano practice.

Joining Patty, Liz read the plaque underneath the painting, "_A Well-Meaning Hell_." She thought of Maka's partner, who came from a family of talented musicians. "Kinda reminds you of Soul, doesn't it? I mean, he was pressured to go into music like his brother, wasn't he? I bet his parents thought it would be for the best, but Soul might think otherwise. I think that's what this piece's saying."

Patty regarded her sister's words for a moment before laughing and saying, "I don't really get it, but you sounded really smart, sis!"

Despite her initial worries, Liz found herself engrossed in the atmosphere. However, they found that few of the other artworks caught their attention enough to pause and examine it or ponder its meaning, though Liz was interested in the collection _Twinkling of Crystals and Stars_, and Patty found _The Coughing Man_ hilarious.

They were just approaching a sculpture of a luminescent red rose when they heard their meister scream. Sighing, Liz glanced at a clock on the wall. _C'mon, Kid_, she complained silently. _It hasn't even been half an hour yet._

Nevertheless, the two hurried up the main stairwell to the second floor where Kid should have been, striding past near-identical blank mannequins and other works, and to another corridor where bystanders had gathered, no doubt curious about the disturbance. What the sisters saw was typical: Kid hunched over, gripping the sides of his face, while staring horrified at a (weird) sculpture. A few museum guards stood nearby, telling him to either quiet down or leave. That's when Liz knew it was time to intervene.

"Excuse me," she spoke up, marching up to Kid. The guards turned to her expectantly. "Sorry 'bout my friend here. He, uh, just gets overemotional sometimes."

"Well, he's disturbing the other patrons," said the guard. "I'll have to ask you to leave."

"Got it." To her meister, Liz hissed, "Let's go, Kid," before dragging him away by his collar, with Patty close behind. They were aware of the stares, though they were used to them by now.

"I can't believe you got us kicked out of a _museum_, of all places!" Liz complained as they passed yet another enormous abstract painting. "They won't let us back in now."

"We could always sneak back in, sis," Patty suggested cheerfully. "Like spies."

"That is true. What do you think, Kid?" She looked at her meister, but he had disappeared.

They caught sight of him gazing up at the wide painting, deep in thought and with a hand to his chin. The painting was of a landscape that vaguely resembled the gallery and incorporated its artworks, but was made up of such seemingly arbitrary strokes that it would take a moment for one to actually see the subject. On a stand in front of it lay a worn ledger and pens, no doubt the guestbook they'd been looking for.

"That's odd," Kid remarked to no one in particular. "There's no plaque or title."

Joining Kid, Liz and Patty examined the book, flipping through its pages and skimming over the names. Most of the signatures had dates written next to them, and others were accompanied by comments. Overall, everything seemed normal.

But then, as they went began turning to the entries from around a month prior, something struck them as odd. Several names had been signed more than once, many on the same days. Some didn't even make note of the date. Even more mysterious was the fact that a number of these signatures were crossed through with red ink. _Elimination_ – that was the word that immediately came to mind from the sight. Two names appeared the most:

_Ib_, in plain handwriting, and _Garry_, in cursive scrawl.

Their names were scattered throughout the guestbook, but they both started on the same day and appeared together in later entries. Once in a while, though, one would appear and the other wouldn't. The last time they appeared was nearly a month before, when the disappearances began.

And neither had x's etched through them.

None of it made any sense, but these "Ib" and "Garry" people were definitely involved in the disappearances.

"Let's get going, Kid," Liz said, feeling satisfied with their discovery, even if they hadn't figured it all out yet. But Kid was still gazing at the abstract canvas, oblivious to the world. "Uh, Kid?"

"What a strange piece," he murmured. "It's almost as though…it's…" Trailing off, Kid reached a hand towards the canvas as if to touch it. Liz stiffened and scanned for the guards.

"Hey, Kid!" she hissed. Kid froze and turned to her in confusion. "You can't just go 'round touching paintings. We'll get into even _more_ trouble!"

"Right," he replied shortly. With one glance back at the painting, Kid marched past Liz and Patty saying, "Tell me what you found."

And as they headed for the exit…

None of them noticed that three painted shapes in the painting, one in black and two in red, disappeared.

* * *

**A/N:** Sorry this took so long to update! I have no excuse except for procrastination. I feel like the quality of my writing went down in this chapter (the first chapter was a "spur of the moment" thing), but perhaps that's just me. In addition, I don't think I wrote Liz and/or Patty in character. This is more of an introductory chapter, too, for those who haven't read/seen one or the other. I think I should've added a little more detail.

I hope you guys enjoyed in any case. I've already started writing the next chapter, so it shouldn't take as long.

Thanks for reading and please tell me how I'm doing!


	3. No One In Sight

**Disclaimer: Ib and Soul Eater belong to their respective owners/writers. **

* * *

**Chapter 3**

They decided to pay a visit to the various families of the victims, to ask them questions, but other than the common issue of all the missing being children, nothing stood out to them. Some didn't even have a family to question. They were about to give up hope until they came to Ib's home.

The multi-story townhouse was located in the richer, more influential part of the city, as they were patrons of various artists. Their donations had helped find the Guertena exhibit, and, perhaps because of this, the family had been plagued by reporters and investigators, all trying to find out if they had any connection to the disappearances. Of course, the family denied all claims.

It was partly for that reason that Kid, Liz, and Patty chose to visit the villa sooner than later.

The house itself exuded prestige, despite it being a brownstone similar in appearance to all the others around it. Perhaps it was the sculpted lawn, the clean stairwell, or the well-kept garden that set it apart.

These were some of some of the most influential citizens, yet Kid, Liz, and Patty were just about to knock on their front door and expect to be let in.

Moments after knocking, the trio heard hurried footsteps near the door and were greeted by a red-eyed woman (whom the trio presumed to be Ib's mother). She wore a stern appearance, her brown hair pulled up in a loose bun and wearing a maroon dress suit; but her expression showed otherwise. The weeks following her daughter's disappearance had taken its toll on the mother, and she'd aged considerably.

"Are you from the DWMA?" she inquired immediately.

"Yes," replied Kid. "We're here to ask some questions about Ib's disappearance."

"Then, please, follow me."

A few moments later, they found themselves sitting across from Ib's parents, who'd introduced themselves as Rosalind and Rowan Reid. Ib's father wore a plain grey suit and tie, his tussled russet hair and matching eyes revealed his own sleepless nights and coffee-fueled days. He scrutinized the trio closely before finally stating, "You three seem a bit too young for investigating these matters. How old are you?"

"Age doesn't matter if I tell you that we can find Ib, do it?" asked Kid.

The man's mouth tilted downwards, but he allowed it. "Fair enough." Then he admitted, "At this point, I'd do anything just to see our daughter again."

"So, there anything you can tell us about the day Ib disappeared?" Liz spoke up then. Both parents looked pained; it was Rosalind who answered first.

"It was a simple visitation of the new Guertena exhibit," she told them. "Ib had been asking us to go, and, because her birthday was coming up, we had agreed. When we arrived at the art gallery, Ib went off on her own to explore ahead of us. We saw her a few times, but after we hadn't seen her for over an hour, w-we couldn't find her. Ib had...she..."

Rowan cleared his throat and continued where his wife had left off.

"Ib had disappeared. At first, we thought that perhaps she had gotten lost or gone to the restroom; but no one had seen her, and we couldn't find Ib anywhere we searched. We had security check all of the recordings, but Ib wasn't in a single one. It was as if she'd disappeared into thin air." Crossing his arms, Rowan sighed deeply. "And now other children have gone missing, as well. Too many for the possibility of runaways."

Pausing, the man looked at the trio as though they might have some answer.

"We can't completely rule out the possibility either, though," said Kid. "Was there any reason why Ib might have run away? Maybe a fight?"

"No! Of course not! Ib has always been a quiet girl and never asked for excessive things. We might have had a few disagreements here and there – mostly about trivial matters – but nothing that would make her run away!"

"And you, sir?"

"I'll admit that we weren't on the closest of terms, Ib and I," Rowan confessed with regret evident in his tired voice. "But I did my best what with my career occupying much of my time. I was happy when she seemed to take an interest in the art at that accursed gallery. Thought she might become an artist. But then…"

"I see."

"Please! Please save our daughter! We'll do anything if you'll just find and return our dear Ib safely!" Rosalind suddenly cut in, startling them.

Kid gazed at her for a moment, but then averted his eyes. "I can't promise—"

"Don't worry! We'll find her!" Liz quickly interrupted. Her eyes were blazing with determination, much to Kid's surprise. He'd never really seen her so set on a mission before. "You can count on us!"

"We can't thank you enough," Ib's mother told them.

Kid cleared his throat, wanting to continue with questions. "At the museum, do you remember where you last saw Ib?"

"After about a half an hour, Ib came to find us on the first floor of the exhibit and told us she wanted to show us a painting," recalled Rosalind. "She ran ahead to the second floor of the museum without waiting but stayed within our sight."

"Do you remember what this painting was?"

"It was…odd, to say the least," Rowan put in. "Of all of Guertena's artworks, this was the only piece to incorporate quick brush strokes that were common in the Post-Impressionism Era." He paused, a confused look donning his expression. "Strange. I can't seem to recall what the painting itself looked like."

"But you guys are like the boss of the museum, right?" Patty asked. "Shouldn't you know like every painting there?"

"'Patrons', dear girl," Rosalind corrected lightly. "We deal with the selection of artworks for a gallery, yes. Yet, even we can't remember every detail of every painting. Later, we asked the curator about the painting, but he knew nothing of it either. And when we led him to its location, it had disappeared."

"A disappearing painting? Sounds like something out of a horror novel," remarked Liz.

"It does sound a bit absurd now, doesn't it?"

"Not as strange as you'd think," Kid muttered under his breath. The image of that captivating painting still echoed in his memory. Standing abruptly, he said, "Thank you for your time, Mr. and Mrs. Reid," and then turned to his partners. "Liz, Patty, let's go."

"Wait, Kid," Liz said. "Don't we have more…questions or something?"

"Unless you do, no."

"It's getting late," Rowan stated. "You three are welcome to stay here for the night."

"Thanks, but no thanks," Kid continued. "We have much work to do."

With a few last goodbyes, the DWMA trio resumed their investigation.

* * *

With Kid in the lead, they returned to the museum late in the day as the sun had nearly melted beyond the horizon. Should they go during open hours, no doubt a patrolling curator would monitor their every move. Though, the Reids had been kind enough to give them a master key.

As the sun finally sank below the skyline, Kid, Liz, and Patty entered the gallery through the back door and almost immediately had to duck behind a corner to evade the sight of a security guard checking in. Once the echoes of his footsteps faded, Kid began to lead his partners from the lit staff entrance to the shadowy chasm of the hallways.

Someone grabbed his arm, and Kid spun on his heels, staring at Liz.

"What is it?" he whispered.

"I don't like this Kid," she told him, shivering unconsciously. "If there's someone or something evil here, shouldn't we transform or something?" The museum had been accommodating and even welcoming during the day, but the night transformed it into a scene from a horror movie.

Kid conceded, "Very well, but make it quick."

In a burst of light, the sisters' forms became those of the familiar red and black twin Death Weapon pistols, and Kid hoped that no one had seen. Keeping his smallest fingers ready on the triggers, he finally reached the east wing of the lower floor.

Rows of overhead lights hung above each exhibit, casting eerie shadows on the walls. Kid walked in silence, glancing ever so often at the artwork. Nothing seemed out of place, no mysterious shadows or moving paintings stalked the corridors.

It wasn't until they reached the bottom of the stairs that they finally encountered a patrolling figure. Kid immediately hid behind the _Embodiment of the Spirit_. At the same moment, the guard spun towards the noise, throwing his flashlight's blinding gaze around the room.

"Who's there?" they heard the guard demand. As though any intruder would answer. Still, hearing no noise after that, he turned around to continue his rounds, muttering under his breath about ghosts and late shifts.

"What do we do now, Kid?" Liz hissed, though yet both knew they needed to move on quickly.

Seizing the opportunity, Kid raced out from behind the rose, aware that the man had heard and would now be chasing them.

"Hey, you! You're another supposed to be here! Get back here!"

Disregarding the guard's shouts, Kid sprinted past the first floor exhibits to the stairs. More than one pair of footsteps followed them now (no doubt more security), which only furthered the urgency.

The paintings of the second floor blurred and melted past Kid, who didn't stop until he reached the red-veined _Reserved Seat_. Somehow, he knew the artwork in question was just up ahead.

Kid took a step forward when dual flashes of light preceded Liz and Patty's transformations back to normal, and all three of them exchanged looks.

"Why did-" Kid started, but Patty cut him off.

"It wasn't us," she protested, which only worried them more. It was as though the gallery was preventing them from staying in Weapon form. But that was impossible, wasn't it?

Deciding not to question the matter at that moment, the trio continued on, the sisters hanging close to Kid's side. Moments later, they stood before the enormous _Fabricated World_ in all its abstract glory. There was no doubt that this was the painting the Reids had seen. How anyone could forget such a piece was beyond Kid, but he supposed that he had no right to talk.

After gazing at it for a few seconds, Kid asked, "So, do either of you know how yogis works?"

Liz stared at her partner, stupefied. "You mean you don't know what to do?" she cried., flailing re arms about. "Wonderful, wonder-eek!"

In her excitement, she'd accidentally struck the canvas. She was just about ready to give it all up when all three of them noticed something odd.

The footsteps had ceased altogether, as though security had just disappeared suddenly.

Above them the lights flickered and died out, leaving them in a murky darkness.

_thwack thwack thwack_

The distinct sound akin to an executioner's axe against wood reverberated through the corridor. Horrified, Liz grabbed Patty and hid behind Kid, and all three turned to look at the wall.

For there, in bright dripping crimson paint read the words:

_Welcome to the World of Guertena. _

* * *

**A/N: **I almost got scared writing the ending myself X0.

Sorry about the long wait again. Hopefully this was worth it, even though there was a lot of dialogue. I just felt that some soother points of view would be nice.

Agh, there was so much I forgot to do last chapter. I meant to ask what names you guys wanted for Ib's parents (because the ones I eventually chose are so cliché). And I didn't even reply to reviews (which were awesome to get, by the way). I'll answer some general questions now, though:

1) Will the main characters of Soul Eater go to the gallery?

- Eventually, yes. I just don't want to rush things too quickly. Plus, it's hard to write conversations and scenes involving 10 people at once.

2) Who is the witch?

- That's a secret. Even _I'm_ still trying to figure out the plot.

I just want to say how awesome you guys as readers are. Whether you review, fave, follow, or even just read, it really motivates writers to do their best.

Anyway, I hope this chapter was worth the wait, and if not, please review and tell me how I can improve. By the way, I need a new title, if you have any suggestions.

Thanks for reading!


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